Weathered In
by Burned Vamp
Summary: Quatre is LOST in the woods! And stumbles upon a cabin. Trowa's cabin. In the rain. Why do things just seem to get FREAKY? And what's up with all this RAIN? 6x4, 3x4, 1x4? AU
1. Lost

Quatre was soaked, hungry, and highly irritated at himself.  
_Who knew that "roughing it" would be so_ hard?  
He had been blindly walking through the forest in the pouring rain, looking for his campsite. Which was curious because he certainly hadn't started searching for firewood IN the rain. It was like it had just... walked up on him.  
Now he was lost. He blamed his lover, Milliardo.  
_Any REAL man can survive in the wild, my ass!_  
It had been another hour later (in actuallity, ten minutes... it just FELT like an hour to Quatre who had lost his 'non-water resistant' expensive watch when he fell in the mud) when he happened upon a small cabin. A cabin with smoke escaping through the chimney.  
He hastened to the door but years of ingrained manners kept him from knocking it off its hinges. He gently gave it a few taps. After a moment, the door opened.  
"Hello," Quatre began, "I'm sorry, I know I must look dreadful to you, but I need help. I've lost my campsite and I... I..." he waved helplessly over his body.  
The light brown-haired youth that opened the door silently stepped aside to allow him entrance. When Quatre stood in the foyer, and the door closed, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth that instantly started to seep in through his dirty, wet clothes.  
"Ah! Thank you so much! I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't seen your cabin." Quatre opened his eyes and saw the boy was gone. He was glancing around when he reappeared in the doorway with a stack of towels.  
Quatre bowed and said 'thank you' repeatedly. When he stopped he noticed that the boy was just staring at him, still holding the towels.  
"Ah... let me introduce myself first, I guess, I'm sorry. My name is Quatre." "Trowa." Quatre was startled. He didn't expect the boy to answer back so quickly. Or have such a strong, sure voice.  
'Wow,' he breathed. Trowa smirked and handed him the towels. "I'll set you up a washing basin. Strip while I find some clean clothes. Just leave your dirty clothes here." With that, Trowa walked away.  
Quatre wasted no time stripping off the now itchy clothes and wrapping a towel around his waist. He dried himself off as best he could and wiped the mud off his face and hair. He already felt tons better and knew that it would be heaven immersing into a tub of hot water.  
Trowa returned and led him into a room with a large bed, a dresser, and a round, tin washtub full of steaming water.  
"Clothes are on the bed. Let me know when you are finished." Trowa closed the door behind him as he left the room.  
The washtub barely had enough room for him to sit in, but he made do. The water did indeed feel good, and he wasted no time in scrubbing himself down with a bar of soap that had been left next to the tub.  
When he finished, he dried, dressed, and met Trowa again, out in the living room. The clothes hung long, and a little loose, but right now, they felt wonderful and soft. Trowa smiled warmly and invited him to sit on the couch with a soft pat.  
Quatre obligued him and smiled just as warmly. He noticed the absence of electronic light fixtures, as the room was being lit from a large fire in a central, open fireplace, and a few candles scattered about.  
"Are you hungry?" Quatre's rumbling tummy answered for him. Blushing, he replied, "very much so." Trowa stood and left the living area. Soon he returned with two platters of steaming stew and bread with butter. Quatre couldn't imagine a finer meal.  
As they ate, Quatre told him of his tale of woe (Trowa not in the least disturbed that he had a male lover), and how he came to find the cabin. Trowa spoke very little, letting the anxious little blonde get off his chest what he would, and it was sometime later, with a full belly, that had Quatre yawning in an ungentlemanly fashion.  
"I'm so sorry!" "Don't be," Trowa smiled. "It is past midnight. You will take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." "Oh, but I couldn't-" "I insist." Well, when he put it THAT way. It was very hard to not want to give Trowa what he wanted.  
Trowa's bed was large and warm and very, very comfortable. It had a pleasant scent and soon Quatre was fast asleep.  
Trowa watched for a while as the cute little blonde snuggled down. And as his breathing turned deep, and evened out, he gave a little smirk and headed to the couch and dreams sweeter than they had been in years. 


	2. Lovely

**Weathered In**

Chapter Two

A/N: Hey all. First of all, sorry about the CRAPPY formatting on the first chapter. It was not fault this time, just me trying to be quick/lazy. Yeah. I won't be doing THAT again.

A 2nd N: This is an AU. In case you couldn't tell. No Gum-dams. And Wufei is currently being occupied with running from lustfull Treize and Duo. So none of those guys are gonna make an appearance.

* * *

Quatre's dreams that night were strange. Instead of being curled protectively within Milliardo's arms, his thoughts were full of Trowa. And they weren't pleasant ones.

Trowa was stalking him through the woods, and everywhere he tried to run it rained. The ground was muddy and he found himself slipping several times. But no matter how many times he stumbled, or how fast he ran, Trowa was always the same distance away. No more, no less than a few meters.

He had no idea why he was running, and Trowa's eyes gave no indication of why he was afraid of him. But afraid he was. He would shiver as he ran, from the chill in the air, from the calculating coldness of those emerald depths.

It was unexpected when he found he ran straight into Trowa.

Quatre willed himself to wake up when the other man grabbed his wrists and slowly pulled him forward. Their clothes disappeared into ash, and the forest collapsed into the cabin. Quatre was suddenly lieing naked on the floor by the fireplace, but could not move.

Trowa started at his cheeks and slowly kissed down his neck and chest. Quatre's brain was screaming, but his body refused to work. When Trowa turned into Milliardo, he thought he would cry from relief. Milliardo continued to kiss, nuzzle, suckle, but worked his way back up to Quatre's ear.

"Slut. You little whore. You really think I would want you after you let that freak touch you," was whispered delicately into his ear. The tone belied the cruelty of the words. "Go ahead and spread your legs for him, I won't care at all. Go be his little bitch. I'll finally be rid of you."

Tears slipped down Quatre's face, yet he still couldn't move to wipe them away. Still couldn't wake up. Still couldnÕt scream.

MIlliardo was suddenly Trowa again, and this time, hands joined lips in their exploration of the blonde's body. Words of love were whispered, kind and gentle, which only served to make Quatre cry harder. His legs were pulled over Trowa's shoulders as he was slowly prepared. Quatre could cry no more when Trowa began to thrust within him with soft promises of forever.

Quatre's body pulled him awake as he came.

He sat bolt upright and knocked his head against Trowa's.

"Ah! What are you doing?"

Trowa looked concerned. "You were screaming. I was trying to wake you."

Quatre blushed. "I'm... sorry. I was having a nightmare. I guess."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Let me make you something warm to drink. It will help you sleep easier."

Quatre thanked him and watched him leave the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he realized that part of his dream had been real... his... Trowa's... pants were wet. He groaned and tried to locate tissues or a towel nearby but none were to be found.

Trowa returned with a steaming mug of chocolate milk and stayed with Quatre until he drank it all. Trowa gently took the mug from him and placed it to the side, eyes never leaving the blushing face.

"Quatre. What happened?"

Quatre blushed harder and listened intently to the dull sound of rain hitting the log roof. "I... I'm sorry. I..." He pleaded silently to Trowa to understand so he wouldn't have to embarass himself further by saying it. He stared intently at the spot that was soaked beneath the quilt.

Trowa glanced down to where Quatre's gaze fell. Then he smiled. "Not so much a nightmare... as an erotic dream?"

Quatre blushed harder and Trowa laughed. "It's all right, Little One. I'll get you clean clothes." He ran a finger gently over the blonde's cheek and moved to the dresser.

After some rummaging, Trowa returned to the bed with a clean set of pajamas and a towel. "I'll give you some privacy. Yell when you are done." Then he left the room.

Quatre leapt from the bed and changed quickly, cleaning off as best he could, and trying to get most of the moisture from the blankets as well. He called out to Trowa who came and whisked away the dirty clothes. With a quiet 'goodnight,' and another smirk, Trowa left Quatre alone again in the room, closing the door behind him.

He was soon lulled fast asleep again by the warm chocolate in his stomache. And just as quickly, the dreams started up again.

This time, he was home, and he had interrupted Milliardo during a love making session with a stranger. His lover began shouting hateful things at him, how he wasn't enough, never would be enough to satisfy what he needed. He was a useless whore, lusting after a nobody in the middle of the woods.

Quatre stood stunned, and again, cried. Then Milliardo began on how weak he was, crying like a baby, and how he would have taken a woman if he had wanted a woman. That Quatre would never be able to understand a real man's needs.

He yelled for his older lover to stop, and when Milliardo grabbed him by the wrists, he was suddenly Trowa again. Gentle Trowa. Kind Trowa. Soft Trowa. Whispering how he was the most beautiful creature on the whole earth and within heaven. How he would cherish him forever. Forever. Love him. Always. He would give him whatever he needed, just never, ever leave. He would make him happy. Forever...

When his body was pulled to the brunette's, he found them both naked. Trowa sat back onto the bed and settled Quatre onto his lap. He continually kissed his precious burden, while once again preparing him, before gently settling Quatre over himself and seating him down onto him.

Quatre cried this time in pleasure, and moved over Trowa slowly. Each time Trowa sank into his body, he was filled with a more intense pleasure and found himself going faster to reach it again and again.

He woke again, to a much more intense orgasm than the first. He also felt exhausted enough to fall back to sleep just as suddenly as he awoke. This time to no more dreams.

Quatre never saw, nor felt, Trowa removing his hand from underneath the blankets.

* * *

It was like a dream when Quatre had ended up on Trowa's doorstep. He was the most beautiful person the forest dweller had ever seen. More than that. He seemed kind.

And he was kind. And charming. Trowa thought that he might very well be in love with the smaller man. And what kind of idiot was the man's lover anyway? Trowa would never have let Quatre out alone anywhere, unprotected.

Soon, Quatre would see for himself that Trowa would make a much better lover than anyone else. But in the meantime, he couldn't let him leave. He would just have to make Quatre stay until he did realize that Trowa was the one and only one for him.

* * *

Quatre awoke feeling a bit more tired than he would've expected too. He was half tempted to just roll over and relax for a couple of more hours, but decided that would be improper behavior as a guest. So he drug himself out of bed and made his sleepy way to the living room.

Trowa looked up from the couch and frowned. "You still look tired."

Quatre yawned. "I'm sorry, I don't wish to be rude."

Suddenly, the blonde became aware that the second pair of pants that he was wearing was a little stiff in the front as if he... "Oh, no," he breathed.

Trowa smiled. "Don't be embarassed, please. I'll get you something else to wear. And how about another bath?"

Quatre was hiding his face behind his hands and could only nod. Trowa smiled and stood, then turned to the bedroom to fill the washtub with water. Secretly, Trowa was delighted that Quatre had been so sensitive to his ministrations the previous night. It was glorious feeling him in his strong grip.

Trowa had already preheated water from the woodstove in the kitchen, and after settling the tub, and gathering the soap, a washrag, and clean clothes, fetched the waterpots and filled the tub. Quatre had a splendid bath while breakfast was being cooked.

All too soon, he was back into the living room with Trowa, filling his stomach with warm food, and listening to the patter sound of the rain on the roof. He noticed then, that the cabin was two stories, and that a circlular staircase had lead up to Trowa's bedroom, and another alcove. The kitchen was visible from the couch if he turned around, and he could spot a screen door to the foyer, and another room off to the back of the cabin. He felt cozy in the spacious room.

"It's so nice here," Quatre remarked. "Do you live alone?"

Trowa nodded.

"Oh, you must be so lonely. And you don't have any electricity? How do you survive?"

Trowa shook his head and smiled. "No, no electricity. I don't need it. No phone. I grow a lot of my own food, hunt, and I have well water. Sometimes I sell animal furs, or what I grow through someone I've known for a while. I contact him through a shortwave radio. He gets me clothes or anything else I may need. Other than that... I'm alone."

"So you have a garden then?"

"A greenhouse, at the back of the cabin. The well is in there also."

"Will you show me?"

"After breakfast I'll give you the grand tour," Trowa smiled.

"Oh, but I've probably been enough of a burden to you already. I should be trying to find a way back to my campsite. I think I've had enough of camping and I want to go home."

"No! No, you aren't a burden, I would be more than happy to assist you in anyway that I could. Besides, with all the rain, it wouldn't be smart to go out until it stops."

"Oh you're right. I just had to be in your way."

"No, it's okay. You aren't in my way at all. It's been a pleasure... having you," he smirked.

Quatre blushed. That sounded kinda... naughty. And it also didn't dawn on the little blonde that the clean clothes that Trowa was wearing had to come from the bedroom and they were acquired while he slept.

Innocently, he was led to the back of the house where the entrance to the greenhouse was, but the thoughts of the man he was following were anything but innocent.

Trowa explained each patch of earth, as the green house was merely a large encasing over the ground, so the roots of his plants would have room to grow. Tomatoes, carrots, peas, potatoes, and other varieties of vegetables were growing in neat rows, the soil a little moist. Quatre was delighted when Trowa allowed him to pull a carrot from the dark earth.

Trowa laughed when Quatre found that it wasn't as easy as it looked and the blonde ended up falling back on his beautiful little bottom when the carrot wouldn't give.

"I'm not that weak!"

"No, little one, but the earth needs to be loosened first."

Trowa handed him a small trowel and soon the blonde had his carrot. He dusted it off and happily munched away, amusing Trowa with Bugs Bunny impressions.

He was shown the well, and he was allowed to pull up a bucket of water, and drink from the cool, clear water. He was amazed at how delicious it tasted.

They talked about the various herbs that Trowa grew, and their uses. And as Quatre was curious about everything, Trowa eventually, reluctantly, told him about his friend, Heero, who sold whatever extras he had. He quickly tried to change the subject by switching to hunting, tieing Heero into it by telling Quatre about the furs he sold.

Trowa became excited and wanted to show Quatre some of what was ready for sale. He pulled him back into the house and took him into another room that was adorned with furs from various animals, in various states.

Some furs were laid out in a stack like blankets, some over bars with heads, tails, and legs still attached, and some that still appeared to be in a drying process, stretched out over looms, and still damp. Various forms of tails were also hung about on the walls, some full and thick and long, and others flat and covered with short hair.

Trowa pulled a fur from the top of the stack that was mainly shorthair, with many long hairs protruding from the skin. Quatre reached out and gently pet the skin.

"It's so soft!"

"This is a male beaver. And this," he pulled off another, "is wolf fur."

The new fur that was held out to him was a beautiful shade of gray, that almost gleamed silver. Quatre touched it and cooed at its softness.

"You must make a fortune... these are gorgeous!"

"Thank you," Trowa smiled. He then had beautiful thoughts of lovely little Quatre, naked, quivering, and laid out among his treasure trove of furs. How appetizing a picture that made! But he was able to control himself from tearing off the other man's clothes, and having his wicked way with him by smacking himself in the head.

Which earned him a strange look, then a chuckle, from the object of his affection. Quatre began to wander about the room, touching furs, and sometimes snuggling them against his cheek. Every once in a while, he would make soft sounds of pleasure that nearly did in Trowa's resolve.

Instead, he smiled. "Would you like to help feed the chickens?"

"You have chickens?"

Quatre was delighted to help.

"Eyuck! They stink!" Quatre held his nose to help keep out the offensive odor. Trowa laughed.

"Yes, little one, chickens are not pretty birds. But, every once in awhile, they make good eating and produce lots of eggs for me to sell and eat."

To get to the chicken house, they had to cross the living quarters, back into the foyer, and through a door in the right side of the small room to a little larger room. In the back of this secondary foyer was the chicken room. And it was huge.

Trowa's cabin was two stories, and the roof of this room reached the second story roof. There were air vents on the side of the room, leading out to the open air which did little to help cycle out the foul air. The room's walls and roof were also made of a plexi-glass type of material giving it that 'outdoors' type of feel.

The actual chicken "house" was a small hut with a long plank leading to the tiny open door. Trowa pointed out the small doors that he uses to collect up eggs from the nests. And there was chicken feces everywhere.

Hence the need for the golashes they put on before they entered the room.

As soon as they entered, the chickens began to converge around them and the two buckets of fresh, shucked corn they carried.

"They eat scraps too, like potato and carrot peelings, and sometimes meat," Trowa winked at him.

"Ew! In my next life, I do NOT want to be a chicken!"

Trowa laughed.

As they fed the birds, Quatre noticed the soft pattering of the rain hitting the plastic, and the chill that invaded the room through the vents. He shivered and smiled at Trowa. The brunette gave him a slow, sexy smile back. For the first time that day, he suddenly thought on Milliardo. And the dreams.

Trowa noticed the smile disappear and decided the chickens were fat enough for now. He pulled Quatre back through the door and told him it was lunch time. He left no room for argument, and seemed mildly upset with something, when he deposited the blonde onto the couch.

When Trowa had returned with a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and split pea soup, Quatre thought perhaps it was time to broach the subject of finding his camp.

"I'm sure Milliardo is going to be checking up on me, thinking I won't be able to handle myself, and I don't want him to get worried."

"Only a fool would travel out in weather such as this."

And indeed, the rain seemed to be hitting the high roof of the living room rather hard.

"Is your lover a fool? I suppose he would be if he would let you out of his sight for even a moment."

Quatre was taken aback. "I... Trowa... what are you...?"

"I'm sorry, little one, I was out of line. Please forgive me. I merely meant, that the weather is not safe for traveling. And you are so precious... that I wouldn't want to risk you." Trowa ran a gentle finger down Quatre's cheek.

He blushed. "Trowa, I'm sorry but, I care for Milliardo very much. And I would like to think on you as a friend. I'm sorry."

Trowa snorted. "Don't be. But I'll not release you until the rain ceases." With that, he stood and climbed the staircase to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Quatre sat, blushing still, and wondering when the rain would end. Wondering if he should hope for it soon or for later.

* * *

Burned: O.O ... Did I REALLY write that beginning? EYIKES!

MissyIrene - I'm gonna TRY really hard to keep up on it! THANK YOU!

MsManga - Yay! I'm glad I posted too! I gotta hurry my butt up and get over and get caught up on reviews to give you more inspiration! I need more hooking, post, and psycho!

Pareathe - ALL of them of course! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! Videos $29.99.

The Bard's Apprentice - ALMOST! Maybe next chapter!


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